When Adrian’s “headache” subsided, he let out a mental sigh, trying to wrap his thoughts around what had just happened. It felt like his whole dungeon had experienced a system-wide glitch, leaving him with more questions than answers. His connection to the system had always been tenuous, but this incident felt different. The system itself, that cold, detached machine, had outright struggled, mislabeling the girl as a dungeon monster.
“What… the hell?” Adrian muttered to himself. Identifying her only produced another string of nonsensical characters, garbled code instead of clarity. For a moment, he wondered how long his bizarre existence in this dungeon could hold up under the strain of such constant errors.
He checked in on his creatures, feeling the faint disorientation in each of them. Two of his collectors had gone offline—likely devoured by swamp creatures when the system shock forced them to land. Chomp, bless him, stood wobbling on shaky legs, looking thoroughly confused.
“Aww… Chomp’s head hurts,” he mumbled, rubbing his mandibles together in a gesture that almost seemed like rubbing temples.
“Yeah, join the club. And I don’t even have a head,” Adrian replied dryly. “That little girl you brought—apparently she’s now classified as a ‘monster’ by our dear malfunctioning system.”
Chomp’s large, expressive eyes went wide as he stared up at the dungeon heart, awe flooding his expression. “Master makes nomnom to a friend? Master can do anything…”
Just then, the small, frail body on the ground stirred. Lucy’s mismatched legs shifted slightly, her face scrunching as she slowly came to. Adrian focused on her, feeling an unfamiliar tug at his core—a strange sense of connection that seemed to pulse along with the heartbeat of his dungeon.
Lucy:
When Lucy's eyes fluttered open, a horrible scene unfolded before her. Suspended in the middle of the room was a massive, grotesque heart, its four chambers visibly contracting with each sickeningly wet beat. A faint, red glow pulsed outward, lighting the twisted, dead-wood walls in eerie intervals. The room itself felt alive, the very ground beneath her hands slick and yielding, as if made of flesh rather than earth.
Across the room, a creature jumped and pranced, its movements frenetic and unnatural. It looked like a dog made of sinew and raw muscle, its exposed flesh glistening in the dim light. But this was no dog. It had two sickle-like arms attached above its forelegs, their sharp edges gleaming. The bone plating on its head caught the pulsating glow of the heart, creating a monstrous visage that made her breath catch in her throat.
Terror gripped her as she instinctively scrambled backward, her palms slipping on the slick, warm ground. Her back pressed against the fleshy wall, its texture yielding slightly but holding firm. She turned her gaze downward, and what she saw made her stomach churn—a floor of pulsing, uneven flesh, alive and moving as if breathing.
Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that seemed to sync with the glowing beats of the monstrous heart before her. "No, no, no, this can't be real," she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling.
The beast stopped its wild movements. Its head tilted as it sniffed the air, its glowing eyes locking onto her. Panic surged within her, freezing her limbs as the creature began to approach. Each step squelched against the grotesque floor.
As it drew closer, its maw opened, revealing rows of jagged teeth. She braced herself for a scream that wouldn't come. But then, something strange happened. Instead of snarling or growling, the creature emitted a series of strange clicks and guttural sounds. Yet, somehow, she understood.
"No fear," it rasped, the voice both alien and childlike in its tone. "We kin now. You... my sister now."
Her breath caught as the words hit her, confusing and terrifying in equal measure. Sister? What was this thing talking about? Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of her surroundings, of this monstrous creature, of the horror unfolding before her.
This had to be a nightmare. It had to be.
Lucy’s chest heaved as her fear overwhelmed her, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. A sob escaped her lips, and her entire body shook as the panic set in. She cried uncontrollably, unable to hold back the raw emotion flooding her mind.
Chomp tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing with confusion as he watched her. He stepped closer, sniffing at the air again. Then, with a voice both gruff and innocent, he rasped, “No! Master said to do this outside. He does not like that in here.”
Adrian, observing through his link with Chomp, was momentarily caught off guard. “Chomp,” his voice rang in the air, carrying both amusement and exasperation, “she’s not peeing. She’s crying.”
Chomp paused, tilting his head even further. “Crying?” he asked, the clicks and growls of his language somehow communicating his bewilderment. “What is crying?”
“Humans do that when they’re sad or scared,” Adrian explained, his voice patient despite the unusual circumstance. “It’s just how they express emotions.”
Chomp’s gaze flickered between Lucy and the pulsing heart above. “But she is sister now,” he said, his tone rising in confusion. “Not human. She is kin.”
Adrian sighed, a subtle frustration creeping into his tone. “The system classified her as a dungeon monster, yes. But look at her. She hasn’t changed. She’s still as human as she can be. Even the parasite has vanished from her head.”
Lucy tried to speak, to call for her mother, but her words caught in her throat. Her last memories surged forward—the bitter betrayal, her parents’ words, and the cold pain of the fall. Her cries intensified, the sound echoing off the fleshy walls of the hollow tree. She hugged herself tightly, rocking back and forth as the anguish consumed her.
Chomp backed away slightly, his clicks softening as if mimicking an apology. Adrian’s voice echoed gently in her mind, his tone unusually calm and comforting. “Chomp, give her some space. Let her be for a moment.” Then, directed at Lucy, his voice softened even further. “There’s no need to cry, little girl. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.”
But Lucy couldn’t stop. The weight of the betrayal, the sheer horror of where she’d woken up, and the impossibility of her situation crashed down on her all at once. All she could do was cry.
Adrian waited in silence, unsure how to deal with the outpouring of raw emotion. Chomp, for his part, crouched low, watching Lucy intently, his confusion palpable. For the first time, the dungeon seemed uncharacteristically quiet.
It took nearly an hour for Adrian to channel every ounce of compassion he had left, soothing Lucy until her sobs finally subsided. Though her crying slowed, Adrian felt emotionally drained—something he hadn’t experienced since his time as a human.
Once she was calm enough, he spoke, his voice steady but firm. "You’re in my swamp, my dungeon. It’s on a mountain I haven’t bothered naming yet. I suspect you came from the village not far from here."
Lucy, still scared and huddled into herself, looked up with teary eyes. Her voice was soft and timid. "Who... who are you? And where are you?"
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Adrian paused, perplexed. Did she not realize? "I’m here. You see me. I’m the heart of this swamp and the dungeon itself," he explained, his tone as patient as he could manage.
Before Lucy could respond, Chomp interjected enthusiastically, hopping from one leg to another. "Master is the best and the most smart! He’s the master of my kin and the Giver of Noms!"
Adrian blinked—or he would have if he had eyelids. "The... what now? The 'Giver of Noms'? What are you talking about?"
Chomp puffed up, his clicking voice carrying pride. "Master is what Master is! Master gives noms to kin! He is the Giver of Noms!"
Adrian groaned internally, his irritation rising. "I am not the Giver of Noms. Stop calling me that ridiculous title!"
Chomp was unbothered. "Master is the Giver of Noms!" he declared again, unwavering in his belief.
Lucy, who had been watching the exchange in stunned silence, felt a small, unexpected giggle bubble up. The sheer absurdity of this back-and-forth distracted her from her fear. Adrian and Chomp looked at her—well, Adrian imagined looking, though Chomp was physically doing it—and Lucy took a moment to gather herself. "So," she asked with a small smile, "your name is Giver of Noms, and you’re the master of this place?"
The dungeon shook slightly as every single Oculnid rolled its massive abdomen-mounted eye simultaneously. Adrian gave an audible sigh of resignation. "No," he said flatly. "My name is Adrian. And yes, I am the master of this place." He decided to ignore the ridiculous nickname entirely, hoping it would disappear on its own.
But his mood shifted when he asked his next question, his compassion temporarily depleted. "Why are you even here? This is a place for adventurers and fools who think they’re clever—not for little girls with genetic defects that leave one leg misshapen."
Lucy’s face crumpled, tears welling up again as she stammered out a broken answer. "I... I don’t... My mom and dad..." Her voice wavered, and her shoulders shook. "They brought me here... They don’t want me anymore."
Her words were soft, but they hit Adrian harder than any adventurer’s sword ever could.
Adrian’s dungeon heart skipped a beat. For all the chaos and death he had caused on Earth, he had never aimed his wrath at children. Collateral damage was one thing; deliberate harm was another. Kids weren’t his concern back then, and truthfully, he didn’t like them much now. But Lucy was different. She was his now. His creature, his responsibility. He cared for his monsters, and she was no exception.
But her story—what she had endured—ignited something in him. Her parents had abandoned her, tossed her aside like refuse. They had left her to die in his dungeon simply because she couldn’t help on their farm, because her leg was malformed. She was malnourished, fragile, and broken in spirit. Over their connection, Adrian felt her sadness and deep betrayal as she recounted the years of cruelty.
A slow, burning rage started to build within him. If he could, he would have thrown everything in the room around. But instead, the longer she spoke, the colder his mind grew.
Adrian’s focus fell on Chomp, who stood attentively nearby. His voice, cold and controlled, resonated in the small space. "Chomp. I’m mad. Her parents don’t deserve to live. Take some bio-matter sacks from the Bloodroot Tree outside, go to the village, and turn them to paste. Make sure they smell a little like her."
Lucy’s eyes widened in panic. She staggered forward, her voice trembling. "No! No! Don’t kill them! They... they just don’t have enough food! And... and they’re mean but not so mean... Please, don’t kill them!"
Her defense of those despicable humans only stoked Adrian’s anger further. His monstrous mind rejected the idea. She was his now, part of his dungeon, and he would not let such treatment stand unanswered.
But then Lucy did something unexpected. She stood, shaky on her misshapen leg, and approached the heart at the center of the hollow tree. Despite her fear, she reached out and placed her small hand on the pulsing surface. Her tears rolled freely as her voice quavered. "Please, Adrian... don’t kill them. They’re bad... but don’t kill them."
Chomp, waiting eagerly at the entrance for the command to move out, paused. He turned his head back toward her, watching her small, trembling form. The big, grotesque creature tilted his head, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his simple mind. She was sad.
Adrian remained still for a long moment, his thoughts a storm of rage and cold calculation. Finally, his voice came, devoid of emotion, like he’d switched off that part of himself entirely. "Chomp. Don’t kill them. But take one of their legs. One from each. When you’re finished, come back immediately."
Chomp chittered excitedly, ready to carry out the order, but paused again to glance at Lucy. Her sobs grew louder, but Adrian ignored them, his mind focused elsewhere. In this moment, Adrian knew one thing with absolute certainty—no one would ever hurt her again.
Chomp:
Chomp sprinted through the tall grass, his claws barely brushing the ground. Even outside the dungeon, he was fast—his body built for movement, precision, and obedience. The farther he moved from the swamp, the weaker he felt, but he didn’t care. This mission was too important. His sister’s honor was at stake, and master had commanded it.
When exhaustion finally crept into his limbs, Chomp bit into a bio-matter sack. The rush of energy was instant. Strength surged through his body, driving him forward once more. He would take revenge. For Lucy. For master. Nothing could stop him.
As he ran, the storm over the swamp seemed to mirror his anger. Lightning flashed rapidly, more frequent than before, illuminating the sky behind him. The rain had pelted harder against his back as he left, almost like a farewell push from his home. Now, out here in the flat "way down," the air was still. No rain. No thunder. Only the quiet rustle of grass. Strange.
Chomp shook the thoughts away. Focus. Mission.
It wasn’t long before he reached the edges of the human village. The place smelled strange—stale food, animal fur, and the faint aroma of wet earth. But beneath it all, he could sense her scent, faint but undeniable. Sister. Lucy. He crouched low, moving as silently as he could, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows. He didn’t know much about human nests, but he knew they liked to live in clusters. Pack animals.
Suddenly, movement caught his attention. Two small humans, larger than Lucy but not fully grown, were locked in a fierce battle. Their hands grasped at each other, mouths pressed together in what Chomp thought must be an attempt to bite or hold dominance. Their growls were low, barely audible, as if trying not to alert their pack to the conflict. One of them—a male—grabbed at the other’s covering, pulling it down to expose the vulnerable area beneath. A cunning tactic.
"Smart," Chomp thought, tilting his head as he observed. "Quiet fight. Keep pack unaware. Very good."
The fight continued as Chomp moved on, leaving them to their strange ritual. He had more important things to focus on.
The scent grew stronger as he approached a small human den. A structure made of stone and wood. "Weak nest," he thought, sniffing the air. "No bloodroot tree to house them. These humans build their own."
He circled the den carefully, his keen senses picking up faint noises from within. Finally, he found an opening in the wall—a rectangular gap not blocked by wood. With a quick leap, Chomp slipped inside, landing silently on the floor.
The hunt was on.
Mar:
The screams pierced through the quiet of the night, jolting the entire village of Mar awake. Lanterns were lit hastily, shadows flickering across frightened faces as villagers rushed outside, pulling on cloaks against the cool night air. Among them were the adventurers staying at the inn, weapons drawn as they followed the commotion to its source.
What they saw made even the seasoned adventurers hesitate.
On the ground near the central square lay Lucy's mother, writhing and screaming, blood pooling beneath her as she clutched at the stump where her leg had been. Standing over her was a creature the likes of which they had never seen—a horrifying blend of sinew and bone, its four legs bent in an unnatural gait, mandibles twitching with menace. Its sickle-like arms gleamed faintly in the moonlight, slick with blood. The crowd recoiled in horror.
The beast's head tilted unnervingly as it leaned closer to the woman. A guttural, gurgling voice emerged from the monster, unnatural but unmistakable.
"Fooor... Luuucyyy."
The villagers froze, the weight of its words chilling them more than the sight of its form. But the adventurers, their instincts kicking in, began to move forward cautiously, preparing to strike.
As if sensing their intent, the monster turned its grotesque head toward them, eyes gleaming with something primal and unreadable. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, it sprinted away, bounding toward the swamp with unnatural agility. The villagers watched in stunned silence as it disappeared into the night, its path marked clearly by the raging storm over the dungeon, the lightning illuminating its silhouette for a fleeting moment before it was swallowed by the dark.
It was only when the cries of Lucy's mother began anew that the crowd sprang into action, tending to her injury. Meanwhile, others hurried to the house, hoping to find some explanation. Inside, they were met with another horrifying sight—Lucy's father, unconscious and missing a leg as well. Blood smeared the floorboards, and the house was eerily quiet apart from the groans of the injured man.
Twain, his mind racing, pieced together the fragments of what he'd heard. A monster had attacked two specific targets, leaving them alive but maimed. This wasn’t mindless savagery—it was deliberate. It didn’t take long for his sharp mind to make another grim realization.
"Where’s Lucy?" he muttered to himself, the cold dread settling over him. He turned to the others. "Has anyone seen Lucy?"
The crowd murmured in confusion, faces looking to one another. No one had seen her since dinner. And in the eerie light of the storm, the absence of the little girl cast an even darker shadow over the events of the night.